


Day By Day

by Costa_Cat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, But also, Depression, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Keith (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Lance is a really good boyfriend, M/M, Messy, Relapse, Self Harm, Suicide mention, depressed, lance is a good dude, like a really good one, supportive lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 21:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costa_Cat/pseuds/Costa_Cat
Summary: You can't love depression away. You can't make depression go away with a big heart and a warm smile. Depression is a storm. A storm that takes over your life. It beats you down. It blows away in happiness you get. It takes away hope before your fingers can even graze it, let alone hold onto it and never let go. You can't love away a storm. You can't love away depression. But, you can however, hold that person through the storm. Be there. Help them. Don't try to make the storm go away because you want. Just make the storm bearable.OrThe one where Keith struggles with getting through each day but Lance is always there to help as best he can





	Day By Day

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this! I wrote one with Keith struggling with Anxiety so I was like 'bitch let's do one where he struggles with depression' so here it is, like 3000 years later.

Keith wakes up with a sore head and a heaviness to his bones that will never go away no matter how much he sleeps. He groans and blinks listlessly up at the ceiling. Today is going to be one of those days. He knows this because every day is another one of those days. And the day after that will be one of those days and yesterday had been one of those days and every damn day of his bleak life will be one of those days.

 

He turns, something that takes far more energy and effort than it should, and buries his face in his pillow and wills himself to go back to sleep. Despite getting to sleep around 6am last night, he struggles to fall back asleep. He sighs again, inwardly begging to anything that will take mercy on him for sleep to take him before depression does.

 

He wakes again, feeling no better than he did when he first woke up. He stares at the ceiling, dull eyes blinking tiredly at the plain white tiles. He stares at nothing and thinks of nothing. He is just...nothing. He feels nothing. Not like, isn't feeling anything at all, but he's _feeling nothing_. Nothing is a feeling and he is feeling it. And it's horrible and terrifying but he doesn't feel scared. He feels fucking nothing and it's a something that carves out his chest and steals anything good and hides it away, leaving it just out of reach.

 

He sighs again and rolls over, letting bleak unconsciousness wash over him.

 

The next time he wakes up, it's to Allura banging on his door. Keith sighs, annoyed, and prays that she goes away.

 

No such luck.

 

“Keith it's time to wake up! I know it's been a while since we've had an emergency but Zarkon can still attack at any moment so there's no time to be lazy!” She shouts through the door, sounding irritated.

 

“Keith? I don't like being ignored!” She calls out, getting more irritated.

 

“I'll be out later, I'm gonna go for a shower.” He's lying. He has no intention of showering. He can't even muster up the motivation to get out of bed let alone to do the seemingly impossible task of showering.

 

The lie works, thankfully, and she leaves with a 'be out later'. Her echoing footsteps is the last thing he hears before sleep takes him again.

 

The only reason he wakes up next time is because his bladder demands it. He huffs and sighs, and after five minutes of staring at the ceiling and contemplating the worth of going, he decides _fuck it, might as well_.

 

He gets up with a groan, exhaustion weighing him down despite the fact that all he's done is sleep all day, and he shuffles towards the bathroom. When he sees himself, he does a double take.

 

His hair is tangled and greasy, having not even looked in the general direction of a hair brush in probably weeks, if not months. He doesn't even want to _think_ about how painful it will be to brush through it properly. His eyes are puffy and tinged with red, even though he has no recollection of crying, and deep, dark bags sit under them, despite having slept for hours and hours on end. He has stubble over his face, and the distinct beginnings of a moustache. He should shave. He really should. But even the thought of picking up a razor is and taking it to his face is exhausting.

 

He finds he can't look at himself much longer, so he turns, remembering the reason he's in here in the first place, and uses the toilet.

 

As he's leaving, he stretches and, to his disgust, gets a whiff of himself. And he fucking _stinks_. Honestly, he nearly gags. It's disgusting. He's disgusted with himself. He realises he hasn't showered in fucking weeks, maybe even a month or two. Maybe he should shower. Scratch that, he _definitely_ should shower. His hair is grossly greasy, and his whole body feels dirty. His skin feels stretched over his tired and frail bones and everything is unclean and itchy. There's dirt piled under his fingernails. He really needs to shower but the mere preconception of doing so and the sheer amount of effort it would take has him leaving the bathroom without another thought.

 

He freezes when he leaves, tired eyes taking in the state of his room. It's basically a pigsty. His clothes are fucking everywhere (he hasn't done laundry in weeks) and there's tissues mixed with rubbish scattered across the floor. He _needs_ to clean. He doesn't want his boyfriend to see him in such a disgusting state. He already does enough for him. He's surprised Lance hasn't already left him. He's such a fucking useless burden. He still can't believe Lance is still with him, he doesn't deserve him, his boyfriend can do _so_ much fucking better than him.

 

He needs to clean because if anyone else sees this they'll be revolted by him. He loathes himself just looking at it. Allura will probably yell at him and Shiro would look at him with the 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' look. (A look that Shiro has perfected because of Keith.) He should definitely clean but he just fucking can't.

 

Red on a white tissue catches his attention. There's several of them and they lie carelessly beside his bed. He stares at them, dull, bleak eyes fixated on them until it hits him. Hesitantly, he brings up the sleeves of his arm and his stomach plummets when he sees long, thin, red lines marring his arm. _Fuck_.

 

Disappoint lies heavy on his shoulders. It takes over him, spreading to every part of his body, dominating his mind. It's been a few months since he's done this. He had been doing well, why did he have to relapse? Fuck he hates himself. Lance had been so fucking _**proud**_ of him and now he's fucked it, like he does with everything. Shit, _Lance_. He's going to hate him now, he's going to be so disappointed in him. He'll probably decide that Keith isn't worth the time, that he can't save him. Lance is the only thing he has and he's going to leave him. And he deserves it.

 

He flops carelessly onto his bed, arm stinging as it roughly collides with his sheets. His eyes fall to the bloodied tissues. He should move them. Only Lance knows but that can easily change if Allura or Coran decides to come in. But, as usual, he just can't make himself care.

 

He doesn't even notice when sleep takes him again.

 

He awakens to the grating sound of rubbish getting moved around. He sits up and groans, the room spinning and vision blurry. He snaps his eyes closed and breathes in sharply, willing the dizziness to go away.

 

Warm hands wrap around him and there's a soothing voice in his ear. He sighs and leans into the embrace. Lance strokes his hair gently, humming quietly.

 

“Shiro said you haven't been out your room all day. They think it's because you overworked yourself.” He comments causally.

 

Keith doesn't respond. Just leans further into the embrace and not reacting when guilt crushes him.

 

“You wanna get up?” Lance asks him gently, absentmindedly stroking his hair, humming under his breath.

 

Keith groaned, the thought of even standing up on frail bones sends a wave of exhaustion through him. He shakes his head slightly.

 

Lance doesn't cuss him out or swear at him. He doesn't belittle him or yell. Or even sigh in annoyance. Instead, he lays them both down, wrapping his arms around Keith's back and brings him close. Tears sting at his tired eyes but they don't fall. They actually never do. It's quite irritating actually. Having the urge, the need, to cry but never getting it satisfied, never getting to just let go.

 

He whimpers quietly, burrowing his face into Lance's chest which spurs him to tighten his arms around Keith's back.

 

“It's okay babe. We just need to make it through the day. We can stay in bed and sleep.” He murmurs to him soothingly, playing with his hair again.

 

Keith burrows further into his boyfriends chest again, tears refusing to leave his eyes despite also refusing to fall. Just... trapped there.

 

“Yeah... day by day right?” He whispers, echoing what Lance would normally say to him, voice muffled.

 

Keith doesn't see Lance's smile, but he feels it. “Yeah babe. One day at a time. And I'll be here for every single one of those days.”

 

He smiles a little at the words. He's unbelievably grateful for Lance. If he didn't have him, Keith probably would have killed himself a long time ago. He doesn't know to express the words. Doesn't have the energy or the brain capacity to find and say the correct words that will express just how much he loves the boy with pretty blue eyes that reminds him of the sea.

 

But it's okay. Because Lance loves him. He doesn't need to struggle desperately and stress over searching for kind and gentle words so he can tell Lance that he loves him more than he's ever going to love anyone else.

 

He has a feeling his boyfriend already knows.

 

He closes his eyes and yeah, the heaviness is sill there, the crushing despair is still suffocating him horribly. But he feels warmer now. A little lighter than he does when he's alone. And only Lance has that affect on him. Only Lance can make Keith feel like maybe, just _maybe_ , life is actually worth it.

 

Sleep washes over him to the feel of his boyfriend's gentle touches and his soft humming, safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, no matter how shitty he feels, Lance will never leave. He'll always be there for him.

 

And that makes the crushing despair and the heaviness he can't quite explain all the more bearable.

 

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, the day after Lance makes Keith shower with him and he kisses the cuts on his arm and tells him that he loves him and that every thing is going be okay.
> 
> Bonus: he brushes Keith's hair (which takes fucking ages) and then braids it.
> 
> Hhh so I hoped you guys enjoyed that, leave a comment or kudos if you did. 
> 
> Till the next time my darlings!!


End file.
